


Boys Made of Paper

by TheKidFromYesterday



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Dan Howell - Freeform, Dan Howell/Phil Lester - Freeform, Establised Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Phil Lester - Freeform, Self Harm, Slight swearing, everything i write is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-12
Packaged: 2018-04-19 21:17:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4761341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKidFromYesterday/pseuds/TheKidFromYesterday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan hurts himself and Phil is there to save him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Red on White

I watch the thin stream of blood slowly slide down my arm, dropping on to the floor by my bare feet. Heaving a sigh of relief at the sight, I slowly drag the blade across another unmarked space on my skin. Another horribly beautiful line of red appears on my arm, spilling over and running down my skin to follow the rest. The bright red of the liquid contrasts so beautifully against me near white skin and I'm tempted to cover my whole body with these beautiful, red lines.  
There's relief in my mind, but also guilt. I had promised Phil that I would stop, I had promised to call him to talk whenever I got a panic attack but it's so much easier to...  
Another cut makes its appearance on my arm and I marvel at its gruesome beauty. I lean forward, and watch the small pool of blood blossom at the bottom of the sink that's growing slightly as more is added. It's calming in a way, but terrifying as well.  
"Dan!" A shout rings through the door, followed by a pounding knock. "Dan I swear to god, let me in right now, please!"  
"Phil I'm fine!" I yell back, hastily grabbing a handful of toilet paper and pressing it to the gashes that decorate my arm. He wasn't supposed to come home until later tonight. I wonder how long I've been in here.  
Phil pounds the door again, "I know you're not, I found a broken razor in the trash can. Please, please, open the door." He begs me, desperation in his voice.  
Shakily, I reach to open the door, trying to ignore the dizzy feeling settling over me. The second the door is unlocked, the knob turns and he's there, grabbing a towel to press to my arm. He doesn't speak yet, sitting me down on the edge of the toilet seat and dabbing at my cuts.  
I watch him silently helping me, his blue green eyes fighting back tears. His hands shake as he gently cleans the blood off my arms, keeping his face turned away from mine.  
I'm so filled with guilt and I'm still fighting off the dizzying feeling, so squeezing my eyes shut helps. Plus I'm able to avoid his worried expression.  
When I feel him finish, gently bandaging up my cuts, I open my eyes, keeping my head down so I don't have to face his disappointment. He holds my hands in his, crouching in front of me but I still don't look.  
"Shhh," he whispers, "you're okay. Just breath." His hand reaches up and softly wipes away a tear from my cheek that I hadn't even noticed.  
Opening my eyes, I look at his sad smile. There's disappointment there, hidden in that smile and I want to hide from him in shame.  
"Hey. I'm sorry I yelled. I didn't mean to scare you."  
"It's fine." I mumble, "I deserved it. I promised you I wouldn't cut and I did."  
"Oh, Dan, sweetie." Phil pulls me close, kissing my forehead. "It's okay. I'm not mad at you."  
I nod, trying to hold back a sob but it escapes anyway. It breaks in my throat, wracking my body in silent shakes as I bring my hand up to grasp his t shirt. Gripping it tighter, I pull myself closer to him and he puts his arm around me, lifting me to stand with him as he brings me into a hug.  
"I'm sorry." I murmur in to his chest, "I don't deserve you." Terrified that he'll agree, I burrow closer, hiding my silent tears from him.  
Phil gently leans forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I miss when I was shorter than him and he was able to do that without having to go on his toes. "You deserve everything. You deserve better than me. I'm just scared that I'm not enough to keep you safe."  
"This isn't your fault though." I push away from him to look up to meet his eyes through my watery ones. "You're not the one carving gashes in your skin for fun. You don't find relief in pain. You don't have to live with a terror that follows you wherever you go because you're scared someone will ask you where you scratched yourself. You don't know what it's like to have a panic attack for no fucking reason and wanting to cut your wrists open!"  
I watch as the hurt and worry grows in his eyes and I immediately regret opening my mouth. His wide eyes fill with tears but he stays still.  
I sigh. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say all that--"  
"Do you actually enjoy hurting yourself like this?" He interrupts me, looking scared for the answer.  
I don't want to lie to him, I've already said it, so I nod, watching him for a reaction.  
But he simply nods. "Oh." He doesn't look at me. "I didn't know that."  
After a few minutes, I quietly ask, "Um, can we go sit down?"  
Phil nods again, leading me by the hand out the bathroom door.


	2. You're Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Idk Phil takes care of Dan and it's cute.

Phil leads me towards our shared bed, what our viewers know as "Phil's bed". The walk back had brought on a pounding ache behind my eyes and by the time I reach the bed it feels like the beginning of a migraine.   
What's worse than that though, is the gnawing guilt that chews at my insides. Guilt that I enjoyed hurting myself, guilt that I had let Phil down again.   
It had felt so good to have the blade back in my hand to be in control of my pain.   
I watch silently as Phil sits down on the bed beside me, gently putting an arm around my shoulders and allowing me to bury my face in his shoulder.   
I immediately feel comforted, breathing in his scent and letting myself get lost in him. His hand comes up and cards through my hair, twisting the half straightened curls between his fingers as he presses a kiss to my forehead.   
"I'm so sorry." I whisper, my voice almost breaking. I don't trust myself to say anything else so I leave it at that.   
The words hang in the air above us, swollen with meaning and waiting to drop down and crush us.   
Phil sighs, reaching out to take my hand in his. "It's okay." His voice is so calming, low and caring and I wrap my free hand around his waist and bring myself closer to him.   
I always feel safe with his arms around me, but guilt attacks me still. It slowly chews it's way through me, closing up my throat and tightening my chest until I break.   
"But it's not!" I push myself up and away from him, suddenly filled with anger. Anger at myself. "It's not okay to enjoy this! I fucking love having a blade in my hand, love seeing the blood, it's sick! It's so fucking messed up--I'm so fucking messed up! There's so much that's wrong with me, why couldn't I just be normal? I wouldn't wish this on anyone else, but why does it have to be me?" My voice has risen and before I know it, I'm yelling. Everything I told myself that I'd never tell him is pouring out, smacking Phil in the face.   
"I want to die! I want my life to end, I don't want to exist anymore!" My voice cracks and breaks apart, shattering on the bed between us. Tears fill my words and I manage out a small "I just want it to end" before sobs wrack my body, cutting off any other words.   
I don't trust myself to look at him, keeping my face covered in my hands as I do my best not to shatter apart.   
Beside me, Phil is silent, his hand barely touching my shoulder and not moving.   
God, you idiot, I tell myself, There's no way that he'll stick around now. Well. It's not like he was going to stick around for much longer anyways. No one wants to deal with a suicidal freak.   
A shaking hand tentatively covers mine and gently pulls it away from my face. I glance up to meet his eyes, trying not to look at the sad smile on his face as it only makes me feel worse.  
"Hey," Phil pulls my other hand away and gently places his against my cheek. "You're okay, just breathe okay?"  
"I don't deserve you." I gasp out, still breathing raggedly, "I'm a fucking mess, you shouldn't have to deal with this."  
"Dan, sweetie, calm down, just breathe." His thumb runs against my cheekbone, the other hand holding both of mine.   
"I don't see how you can even stand me..."  
Phil places a finger on my lips, hushing my words before I speak them. "Calm down. I've got you."  
I hesitate, then nod, letting him pull me into a hug. He holds me against him without any words, waiting for my breathing to even and my pounding heartbeat to calm. Long fingers card through my hair, gently twisting the ends until I finally relax against him.   
"Do you want to talk?" His voice is muffled against my hair and I shake my head. I know talking will only reduce me into a sobbing, apologetic mess again and I don't want to shove that on him.   
"Okay." He kisses my head. "That's fine." Leaning back against the pillows, he pulls me with him and holds me to his side with one arm. We watch the wall in front of us, studying the plain, light blue paint as our own thoughts occupy our minds.   
I curl closer to his side, resting my head on his chest and he tightens his arm around my shoulder.   
"You know I love you, right?" Phil's words are soft, his whispering voice barely audible among my shaky breaths. "I really really love you, and I wouldn't leave you for anything."  
"Even though I'm a freak?" I ask, and he squeezes my arm.   
"You're not a freak." He claims, frowning.   
"I'm fucking mental." I counter, trying not to raise my voice. "Only a freak could be able to hurt themselves and enjoy it."  
"You're not a freak. And even if you were, I would love you just the same."  
I don't want to fight with him, so I nod instead, focusing on his hand intertwined with mine. Placing my hand against his, I marvel at the size difference. There was a time when his hands were bigger than mine, but now mine could easily curl down over his.   
Phil gazes out the window over my head, but I stay focused on him, mindlessly clasping and unclasping our joined hands.   
We don't talk, and I try to ignore the heaviness of my eyelids as I try to keep myself awake.   
At some point, Phil's hand that used to rest on my shoulder comes up, gently running through my hair as he starts humming some made up tune and I have to fight to stay awake.   
Our hands lay on my lap, still absently moving together even when I feel myself nodding off.   
"Go to sleep sweetie," Phil presses a kiss to my temple, "I've got you. You're okay."   
I think I nod, and I feel his fingers carding through my hair one last time before I'm asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!  
> Comments and kudos are welcome, they make me happy. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!  
> Comments and kudos are welcome, they make me happy! :)


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